


What Sherlock Deleted

by thelookyouredoingthelookagain



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Fantasy, First Time (Kinda), M/M, Masturbation, Military Kink, More Orgasms, Orgasm, PWP, Sherlock Wants Orgasms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-22
Updated: 2015-08-22
Packaged: 2018-04-16 13:18:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4626708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelookyouredoingthelookagain/pseuds/thelookyouredoingthelookagain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Our take on the Sherlock-deleted-orgasms prompt.</p><p>Sherlock deletes all information he deems irrelevant, but John sets out to show him that pleasure is not meaningless at all.</p><div class="center">
  <p>
    <i>A nice quick dose of smut for you after the longer narrative of the last month!</i>
  </p>
</div>
            </blockquote>





	What Sherlock Deleted

**Author's Note:**

> All works here were produced by two friends in the fandom. One writes as SH and one as John, and we edit together. Our characters are based on the BBC's _Sherlock_ , though we don't mind playing a little loosely with canon and the occasional AU. We have whims and like to follow them. While we like to torture our boys with constant misunderstandings, we know they belong together and we always see to that.
> 
> All posted works are complete, and we hope there will be something for everyone. Please take a look at our other works. Just a note, though, there's pretty much always going to be smut. Sometimes fluff, sometimes angst, but always smut. We can't help it: that's just the way we are.
> 
> We plan to add new work each weekend, so please subscribe.
> 
> We also really appreciate the kudos and comments. They mean a lot -- sometimes they inspire new ideas and works, sometimes they just make us feel all warm inside.
> 
> Thanks for reading!

"He was having an orgasm," John said for the ninth time. Sherlock wasn't understanding. He kept grumbling at John about how it just wasn't possible that someone couldn't hear a strangulation occurring in the next room. He wouldn't let it go. "Sherlock, I would be surprised if he could hear anything while masturbating, let alone the end of it. You know how it is." 

Sherlock had been listening to everything John was saying. At first, he assumed that John was just talking rubbish, but John's insistence was compelling. However, that didn't help Sherlock's understanding because he really had no idea what John meant. "No, I don't know how it is," Sherlock said. "I have never experienced the thing you are talking about."

"You've never masturbated?" John asked. He was surprised, even though he supposed that made sense with what he knew about Sherlock. But never?

Sherlock shook his head. "Is that so surprising?" he asked. "Clearly the habit and its consequences have little benefit or no doubt I would."

"Well, it does have a benefit, it feels good," John said. "Besides, not everything needs to have a reason." He walked on a little. "You've never had an orgasm? Not even as a teenager?" he asked. 

Sherlock tried to think back. "No," he said. "Or if I have, I must have deleted it. Everything does need to have a reason, John. And 'feeling good' does not seem like a good enough reason to me, so clearly if I ever have had an orgasm, I have replaced that irrelevant experience with more useful ones."

"But . . ." John sighed. "I suppose it's your life and you can do what you want but . . . you don't really know what you're missing." Then he smiled softly. "Of course . . . for this case, wouldn't it be relevant information?"

"I'm sure I can rely on your expertise in this matter," Sherlock said but he was still thinking of what John had said. "Are you really saying pleasure can cause temporary deafness, though? That seems highly unlikely to me."

"Of course. One time I was having an orgasm and I missed the fire alarm," John said. "That was back at uni."

"Is that why you don't hear me when I shout while you're in the shower? Do you masturbate every time you're in the shower?" Sherlock asked. There was something quite intriguing about John's revealing this intimate information. Since sex was clearly not important to Sherlock, they'd never really discussed anything like this before.

"Not every time. Sometimes I just ignore you," John smirked.

"But is there any use to orgasm, besides pleasure, I mean? Do you really think I'd have better insight into this case if I knew what it was like?" Sherlock asked.

"Yes, I do think so. Even if you never do it again, at least you will know what the witness was saying and better understand why he didn't actually witness anything." When John looked away to unlock the door, he was smiling softly. He had challenged Sherlock, and then he had referenced the case, so he knew it was almost a done deal. Sherlock hated not understanding something completely.

"Fine," Sherlock said as they headed in. He moved over to his chair and opened his trousers. "I presume I just rub it until it happens?" he asked, sticking his hand into his pants.

John looked over at him and widened his eyes. "Sherlock -- um . . . people usually do this sort of thing in private." He moved to shut the door so Mrs. Hudson wouldn't walk in.

"Well, 'people' might usually do it in private, but I'm not 'people'. Besides, I need you to be here to talk when it happens so I can tell if your theory is right," he said. He looked down at his lap. "Nothing's happening," he said. He pushed his trousers and pants down and then stood up to let them drop to the floor before kicking them to the side. He sat again, completely nude from the waist down, and went back to work. "Am I not doing it right?" he asked.

"I -- okay, hold on." John was trying not to look too hard as he went up to his room and got the small bottle of lube in his drawer. "Use this so it's easier," he said, returning and handing it to Sherlock. "Also just . . . try to focus on things that make you feel aroused."

"Solving cases is the only thing that 'arouses' me. I guess I'll think about that," Sherlock said, pouring some lube into his hand and rubbing it over himself. "Yes, I can see the advantage of this . . . is it petroleum-based? I hope not, John . . . you should be more careful about the products you put on your person and definitely more careful about the products you give me to put on my person . . . you know that cologne you wear must definitely have toxins in it because it hangs in the air hours after you leave . . ." He looked down. "John, nothing's happening. I was thinking about cases but nothing's happening."

"You were not," John said. "It's water-based so calm down." He signed a little. "Sherlock, you need to think of something sexy. Something that turns you on. And move your hand . . . well, just don't be so methodical. Do what feels natural."

"John, I am moving my hand," Sherlock said. His hand was still moving and having no effect whatsoever. "And none of this feels natural because I've never done it before, at least I can't remember having done it or having even been 'turned on' so just shut up. Your advice is absolutely useless to someone who has no idea what sexy means."

"Okay, that's it," John said. He moved off of the sofa and over to Sherlock, standing behind his chair. "Just . . . close your eyes and listen," he said. He put some lube into his hand and leaned over a bit, wrapping his fingers around Sherlock's cock. He started to stroke slowly, trying to put together a story for Sherlock. 

John's touch surprised Sherlock. And then annoyed him. Until he realised this may be the only way it'd work. "I really don't see why anyone finds this appealing," he mumbled. “It's boring and a bit humiliating. Is that what turns you on?"

"Shh. Just listen," John said. He leaned closer to talk more into Sherlock's ear. "Imagine there's a knock at the door. You go answer it. A . . . man . . . is standing there." He waited to see Sherlock's reaction to the gender, but he didn't protest. "He's from a military base. He's in full uniform . . ."

Sherlock closed his eyes, trying to imagine what John was describing. "Why is coming to see me?" he asked quietly.

"He has a case for you," John murmured. "He's going to sit in the chair and when you give him tea -- oops, he spilled it. Looks like he'll have to take that shirt and jacket off," he said. He stroked a bit faster, twisting his hand and teasing the tip. 

"I doubt a soldier would be that careless, John," Sherlock said. "But I know what you're trying to do so fine, his shirt's off." He imagined a shirtless man sitting across from him. A soldier who…kind of looked just a bit like John. He tried not to focus on that bit and instead concentrated on the fact he wasn't wearing a shirt. He had a study build -- he was very muscular but not in a way that was over the top. He looked strong. He could probably lift Sherlock if he needed to, though Sherlock couldn't imagine why he'd need to. He wondered if John could lift him. He brought his mind back to the man. "What rank is he?" he asked in a low voice which he hadn't intended to use.

"A captain," John smiled softly. "And he's noticed you looking. Now he's sitting on the edge of his seat, straight up so you can properly see his body. He's going to scoot a bit closer and ask you if you'd like to take off the rest."  
  
"What am I supposed to say, John? What is he going to do?" Sherlock said. He realised he sounded a little panicked actually, which surprised him.

"Shh," John said softly. "It's all right. He's already slipping out of his trousers and he's crawling over to you, kneeling between your knees. He's touching your legs, rubbing your thighs lightly. Do you like that?"

Sherlock pictured it. Suddenly he realised he had an erection and John's hand, sliding smoothly over his cock, felt . . . incredibly good. "I must," he said softly.

"His fingers are going to open your trousers and take your cock out. He's going to lick his lips while he gazes up at you. He's going to ask you if you're going to stand at attention for him, then he'll flush at his silly joke, and to make up for it he's going to lick a long stripe up from the base to the head. You taste very good . . ." John's voice was deep and husky now. He was getting very involved in the story, imagining himself as the captain. He had to be careful what he said. 

"John -- I don't know…" Sherlock mumbled softly. His hands gripped the arms of the chair, and he noticed his hips were rocking a little. "Is this right . . . is this what's supposed to be happening?" He swallowed awkwardly. "Your hand . . . it feels good. I . . . feel good . . ."

John tried to imagine what this build up would feel like to someone who didn't know, who didn't remember what was going to happen after this build up. "Just relax and let it do what it does . . . let it move through you . . ." He moved his hand faster on Sherlock's cock, swiping the tip with his thumb. "He's going to swallow your cock, Sherlock, right into his throat before he starts moving up and down on you."

"John!" Sherlock called loudly and grabbed at John's wrist, but it was too late. His cock jerked and sprayed over John's fingers and onto Sherlock's thigh. It was like his brain and his entire body had ceased functioning for a moment. He felt like he couldn't breathe and he dropped his head back to try to just . . . _think_ but it was like he had no control. And then just as suddenly, things began working again. He was breathing, he was thinking, he could see and hear. "John," he mumbled softly.

"I know," he said softly, his hand slowing and finally stopping. He pulled his hand away from Sherlock, keeping his fingers spread until he could wipe them off. For a wild moment he considered licking them clean -- something in any other situation, Sherlock might find intriguing, but that might be too much at the moment. "Are you okay?"

Sherlock nodded. His head was down but he wasn't really looking at anything, just concentrating on breathing, just trying to feel normal again.

John reluctantly moved into the kitchen and cleaned his hand before bringing a wet cloth over to Sherlock. Then he sat on the sofa and watched him carefully.

Sherlock didn't even noticed the cloth John had set on his leg. His eyes were closed and the only thing in his head was the fact that that had been singularly the most pleasurable experience of his life. He'd totally forgotten why he'd done it -- the case and John's theory were not present whatsoever. Only pleasure. And he wanted that pleasure again. He slipped over to the sofa and started to crawl on top of John. "Take off your shirt," he mumbled as he pulled on the material. "Hurry . .. ."

"Sherlock --" John started but the words died on his lips. He saw in Sherlock's eyes what he wanted, what he needed. John pulled his shirt off and then worked on his trousers, pushing Sherlock back and flat on the sofa.

"I want to feel it again," Sherlock moaned lightly. He moved his hands over John's arms and his own chest -- it was like he had no idea what to do with himself. "Do what he did . . . please . . . I want to know how that feels . . ."

John was about to ask who before his mind caught up, and he nodded quickly. He pushed Sherlock's legs open, pressing one to the sofa back and letting the other drop on the floor. He bent forward and licked a long stripe up his shaft, swirling around the head.

"Oh god . . ." Sherlock moaned loudly. "Why haven't you been doing this to me the whole time?" he mumbled as he reached down and held John's head lightly.

John hummed softly and swallowed Sherlock like the story he'd told. After swallowing several times, he then swirled his tongue up and down the shaft.

Sherlock lifted his hands and unbuttoned his shirt, running his hands over his bare chest. "John, it's going to happen again, I can tell . . . soon," Sherlock moaned again, this time quietly. "Everything . . . everything feels so . . . good."

John moaned softly and kept moving, hollowing his cheeks around the head and squeezing his thigh.

"John -- wait, stop --" Sherlock said, reaching down and pulling on his hair. "Bring your mouth here -- we should kiss, people kiss . . . I want to do it all," he whined.

John popped off and kept stroking with his hand, kissing Sherlock belly and nipples and chest all the way to his mouth, which he licked into to deepen the kiss as he stroked.

Sherlock's hand went to the back of John's head, just groping awkwardly. "John, you've known about this all along…" He tried to kiss John back, but at the same time, he couldn't seem to stop talking. "It's just . . . everything feels good . . ." His hips rocked against John's hand and body.

John nodded. "Fantastic," he said against Sherlock's lips. "Let me go back down . . . you can come in my mouth." With every word he pressed kisses on Sherlock's lips, his hand steady moving.

Sherlock moaned again. "Say something else dirty, John," Sherlock said. "I want to hear something dirty."

John smiled, pressing kisses into his skin, biting softly as he moved lower again. "I want you to fuck my mouth, Sherlock. I want to taste everything . . . to swallow you." He sucked and grazed his teeth over a nipple before making his way over Sherlock's belly. "I want to hear my name pulled from your throat in pleasure."

"Fuck, John," Sherlock called. "Even the words . . . even the words make my body feel good . . . god, don't stop -- I don't want it to ever stop . . ."  
  
"Let go, Sherlock. Feel everything," he said, taking Sherlock's cock back into his throat.

A sound came out of Sherlock's mouth -- not a moan or a cry -- just a sound and then he was coming. "Everything . . . it's . . . John. . ." Words tumbled out but they didn't really make sense and it didn't even matter because it was just all good, all over his body, like the whole world was just this feeling. He realised he'd lifted up from the sofa so he let himself fall back against the cushion. Then he looked down at John, between his legs, and said, "Again."

At this point, John was aching -- how could he not be after watching someone experiencing such pleasure? But Sherlock needed a break even if he didn't want one. John crawled up his body again and kissed his mouth, just doing that for a moment.

"John, hurry, I want the feeling again . . . please," Sherlock whined. "Make it last longer . . . make it stay this time." He was pushing at John a bit, even though he didn't even know exactly what he wanted John to do. Except everything. Sherlock wanted John to do everything.

"I'm going to use my fingers. It'll be more intense, and I'll try to make it last longer," John promised. He kissed Sherlock again before moving lower, pushing his knees back to expose more of his arse. He licked his lips softly before scooting back on the sofa and dipping down, licking and sucking on his balls first.

"God!" Sherlock called. "I can't breathe, John, I think . . . I think my heart's stopped . . ."

"It hasn't," John murmured. "Relax . . . take a couple of deep breaths before I continue." He put a bit of force in his voice. The last thing he needed was Sherlock having a heart attack or something.

Sherlock didn't want to relax -- he wanted John to keep going. "What else will you do to me? What else is there? Can't you do something that makes it last for . . . I need the feeling to last for the rest of the night, please," he said, hoping that if he could make his voice sound sensible, John would go back to what he was doing.

"That moment -- that's all it is. But you should enjoy what happens before that moment. I need you to relax a little bit, okay?" He pressed soft kisses on Sherlock's thigh as he waited for him to do as he was asked. "Relax first and then enjoy all of it."

Sherlock tried to take a few deep breaths. He should trust John, he did trust John, and John knew more about this business that Sherlock did. "Okay," he said softly. "But . . . is it hurting me to do this? Is it like alcohol -- will I be ill tomorrow from all this? I don't care . . . I don't even care, I don't want to stop, but . . . will I?

John smiled softly. "No. You will be just fine. Healthy and smarter than today," he said. When he saw Sherlock was calmer, he patted Sherlock's hip. "I want you to turn on your belly and push your arse up for me."

Sherlock did just as John said, without even thinking. He would do whatever John said as long as John would give him that feeling again.

John kissed each cheek lightly, before he pulled them apart gently and licked.

Sherlock exhaled. It was so unusual, but he wasn't thinking about that. His cock was aching now, but what John was doing was also making his breath catch in his throat. He dropped his head down to the cushion and panted softly against it.

John licked and nipped and sucked, pushing his tongue in, humming as he opened and teased the muscle. Gently he pushed one finger inside, pumping back and forth.

"John," Sherlock gasped. "Are you sure . . . are you sure?" He tried to think for a second -- what was he trying to ask? But he couldn't think at all. He felt his body push back slightly against the pressure of John's finger. "God, that feels good . . ."

John kept kissing his flushed skin as he added a second finger, stretching him open a bit. When his fingers moved easily he curved them to stroke his prostate. 

Sherlock made a small howl. "That feeling . . . it'll kill me, John . . . but I don't even care . . ." He kept rocking against John's hand.

"It won't kill you," John promised softly, pumping his fingers. "It's going to take you so high . . ." John knew Sherlock must be getting tired. A good orgasm was tiring, let alone more than one so quickly in a row. 

"Make it happen, John," Sherlock moaned. "Touch it as well and make it happen . . ."

John reached between his legs and stroked Sherlock's cock as he curved his fingers against his prostate. Sherlock had no idea how sexy he was. As John felt him letting go again he curved his fingers into his prostate, giving him as much pleasure as he could take. He wanted to give him everything. And then Sherlock was coming again.

He dropped his body down on to the sofa, curling up a bit. "John," he said. "I --" He didn't know what he wanted to say really, so he just made small noises and rocked a little bit. "Is this what it's always like . . ." he finally asked. "How can you go straight to work after doing this?"

"It's not always like this," John murmured, petting his back lightly. "It's just been a long time for you. And you've just had three in a row. That's a lot."

"Can you . . . make it happen again or is that impossible?" Sherlock asked.

"We can again. But you're getting exhausted . . . how do you feel?"

"I just . . . want to have that feeling again," Sherlock said softly. "Can you . . . please?"

John nodded. He went to the bathroom and brushed his teeth quickly before coming back for Sherlock. He pulled Sherlock up and kissed him again, mostly because he wanted to now as they slowly moved to his bedroom. He shut the door by crowding Sherlock against it.

"Hurry, John," Sherlock said.

John nodded again, hooking one arm at Sherlock's knee and the other around his waist. He lifted him up and against the wall, pressing close to keep him there. He was still open, and John was leaking enough to make everything slicker. Glad he was regularly checked and for his recent bout of abstinence, he pushed into Sherlock without pausing for a condom. He held Sherlock's hips and moved into his body as best as he could, keeping Sherlock up and panting against his chest with the effort. He was so close.

He can lift me, Sherlock thought, and then there was nothing in his head except for the feeling of pleasure. He opened his eyes and saw pleasure on John's face as well. "Yes," he moaned. That's all he could think to say.

"Fuck Sherlock . . . I'm so close . . . so close," John panted, gripping tighter. "Touch yourself…"

Sherlock wasn't quite sure if he could do it like John had. He grabbed his cock and tried to stroke it as John had, the first time. "John, it's going to happen . . . it feels good -- is this what it feels like for you?"

John nodded, even though this, with Sherlock, felt like so much more. He groaned and pushed up hard. "Sherlock, fuck . . ." John came into him, clutching even harder.

Sherlock kept his hand on his cock with each of John's final thrusts. "John," he called softly and then he was coming again. It was different this time. Something was different.

John gasped and gathered his strength. He held Sherlock in his arms, moving him to the bed.

"John, I'm . . .," Sherlock mumbled softly. "Something's wrong . . . I can't think . . ."

"Shhh," John said softly, lying down beside him. "You're just exhausted. Go to sleep."

"But I . . ." Sherlock tried to say, but he was exhausted and as his breath steadied, he fell asleep.

John stayed beside him, dozing in and out, petting Sherlock lightly. Things would be different now, but he hoped that would be a good thing.

When Sherlock woke up, he saw that he was naked and in John's bed. He tried to move but his body was still drained of all energy. "John," he whispered. "Does this mean we had sex?"

John blinked his eyes open and looked over at Sherlock. He swallowed hard and nodded. "Yeah, it does," he said softly.

Sherlock stayed still as he tried to think clearly for the first time since they'd got home. "John, I don't do sex and what about . . . I mean, maybe tonight shows why I had to delete it . . . because I like it too much." His throat was so dry. "What if I have to delete it again?" He curled up again, but this time he turned and curled around John.

"Yeah, I've been thinking about that," John said calmly. "Don't delete it, okay?" He let his arm wrap around Sherlock's back. "You're older now, wiser. You can just fit it into your life, without letting it take over."

"Do you mean . . . with you, like today?" Sherlock asked.

John nodded. "With me, yes," he nodded. He grabbed Sherlock's hand and laced their fingers.

"But not four times in a night?" Sherlock said, smiling a little.

John grinned. "Maybe two, if we're lucky," he said, squeezing his hand.

"And you won't use your magic abilities to take advantage of me in anyway? Telling me important things at the moment you know I won't hear or understand or even care what you're saying?"

"No, I won't take advantage of you," he said. "Are you glad you remembered?"

"I didn't remember, John. I don't remember," Sherlock said. "I just have this now."

"I'm glad I got to show you," John admitted.

Sherlock stayed quiet for a few moments. "Is this going to be okay, John?" he asked softly.

John shifted in Sherlock's arms until they were face to face. He met Sherlock's gaze and touched his cheek softly. "Yeah, I think so," he smiled.

"Good," Sherlock said. "That makes me feel good."


End file.
